


Ice Cold Fire

by hetas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Actually Hong Kong is now Fire Lord, Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Firebender!Hong Kong, Hong Kong and Iceland throw hands, M/M, One Shot, Waterbender!Iceland, also america is his childhood friend cus i said so, also please saves England hes tired, and yes. sealand is the avatar, hungary belarus and taiwan are kyoshi warriors, the DenNor is not explicit but they r clearly more than friends, this is my fanfic if i want ice to be a hotheaded dramatic teen then he will be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetas/pseuds/hetas
Summary: Emil presses his lips into a thin line at the admonishing look from Lukas, and swallows down the acrid words.If you don’t have anything nice to say, then keep your mouth shut,was one of Lukas’s many lectures on the journey here, along withdon’t pick fights with anyone,and most importantly,whatever you do, do not attempt to kill the Fire Lord.(In which Emil attempts to kill the Fire Lord and then maybe falls in love with him.)
Relationships: Hong Kong/Iceland (Hetalia), implied Denmark/Norway (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Ice Cold Fire

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely the fault of an anon who suggested the idea of firebender/waterbender enemies-to-lovers hongice, and then another who suggested fire nation prince hong kong. hes fire lord here but w/e.  
> EDIT: i know i said i'd be posting this in parts, but since I finished reading over my doc, it's definitely short enough for a one shot! so here it is now the full oneshot!
> 
> oh, another thing: this is set in the last airbender universe in that benders exist and a lot of the politics and tensions of the story exist, but in this particular verse, the events of TLA never happened, though it's fairly obvious that certain characters and plot points are inspired by TLA. i love avatar and i love hetalia and ive been telling myself to write a hongice fic so. ta da!
> 
> i hope u enjoy!
> 
> (ps. priestess eshe is ethiopia, lady maeja is ancient greece, and earth king vargas is rome)

The first word that comes to mind when Emil steps out of his palanquin is: ostentatious. He’s certain that the sloping roofs, gleaming black in the sunlight, are meant to be a show of power, of wealth, of strength. Blood red pillars stand high in the sky, tall and imposing. The only signs of life in the open sand quadrant are a few barren trees, just clinging to the remnants of green leaves.

Despite the harsh, tropical heat, a shiver crawls its way down Emil’s spine. For just a moment, he allows himself to be afraid, to be intimidated by the soldiers who surround them, the sun glinting off the polished metal of their armor and swords. 

And then, he squares his shoulders, swallows down the terror. He will not show fear in the heart of the Fire Nation. 

“It’s somehow exactly what I expected, and not,” Lukas breathes quietly. Emil spares a glance at his older brother, and finds his elegant face set in a calm, almost awe-like expression as he scanned the area. If Emil didn’t know better, he’d think Lukas is actually happy to be here. But the Bondevik-Steilsson brothers are all well-versed in masking their emotions. (Well, Lukas is.)

Emil scoffs. “It’s totally wh—” he presses his lips into a thin line at the admonishing look from Lukas, and swallows down the acrid words. _If you don’t have anything nice to say, then keep your mouth shut_ , was one of Lukas’s many lectures on the journey here, along with _don’t pick fights with anyone_ , and most importantly, _whatever you do, do not attempt to kill the Fire Lord._

“Chief Bondevik!” Their attention snaps to the man hurrying down the steps. Dressed in Fire Nation finery, Ambassador Kirkland looks nothing like he did when they first met at the South Pole, miserable in his maroon furs against the tundra. He looks much more at home here, if a bit anxious. 

“I’m glad you made it safely. I trust your journey was comfortable?”

“It was fine.” Lukas is not one to mince words. “This is my brother Emil.” 

Ambassador Kirkland bows his head in greeting. “We did not get to speak properly on my visit.” _Because I didn’t want to speak to you,_ is what Emil doesn’t say. He’d actively avoided being in any of the meetings between his tribe and the small Fire Nation delegation that had come for peace talks. “I’ve heard a great many things about your bending.” 

Emil says nothing, and keeps his expression blank. To Ambassador Kirkland’s credit, he takes it all in stride. “Let me escort you to your chambers.” 

Lukas and Emil follow Ambassador Kirkland in silence, taking everything in as they walk. Emil takes note of the number of guards patrolling the halls, every possible exit and water source. It went unsaid that Lukas brought Emil along for protection. Lukas wasn't helpless, but he wasn't a bender and had no weapon. Emil would not let anything happen to him. 

The inside of the Royal Palace is just as grand as the outside, with high, vaulted ceilings, black marble floors that gleam in the light of the torches that line the walls. The air smells of sulfur and cinnamon and incense, and Emil’s nose twitches. The only scent he’s used to is bitter cold. 

It takes a few minutes to work through the maze of hallways, but Emil notes every twist and turn, until they reach their rooms. There are two guards stationed outside the tall, dark doors, and they bow their heads to Ambassador Kirkland, before grasping at the gilded handles and pulling the doors open. It looks to take quite the effort, and Emil wonders whether the doors are meant to protect or imprison.

“I hope everything will be to your liking,” Ambassador Kirkland says, and is silent for a minute to let Lukas and Emil look around. Emil shouldn’t be surprised at the opulence of the suite, given that expensive seems to be the keyword at the Royal Palace, but given that he’s lived all his life, in the aftermath of Fire Nation raids and war, he’s not used to tapestries and antique furniture and priceless table ornaments. “If there’s anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask. Dinner for the delegations will be served in a few hours, and I’ll be here to escort you.” 

“Thank you, Ambassador Kirkland,” Lukas says, and Emil doesn’t have enough patience for more than a cursory head-nod, before they’re left alone. 

“It’s… different.” Lukas says, fingers running across silk curtains. 

“It’s expensive,” Emil corrects, then shoots his brother a sharp smile. “You think they’d notice if we stole anything?” 

The unimpressed, don’t-you-dare-even-try look on Lukas’s face is well worth the journey, Emil thinks, and he snorts, turning away. There are three different doorways, and peeking into them, he notes two bedrooms and an opulent bathroom. 

“There’s so much red,” Emil grouses, flopping down onto what is possibly a priceless armchair. “And it’s hot.” 

“Thank you for your insightful input, Emil,” Lukas says, rolling his eyes. “I think the change is nice.” he hums. “It’s warm. And no worry of frostbite.” 

It’s a joke, but it doesn’t stop Emil from shooting back a, “Now we have to worry about heatstroke.” 

Emil gets another eye-roll for his troubles. “You’re such an optimist, Emil. How do you do it?” Lukas ruffles his little brother's hair in a way he knew would annoy him. “I’m going to go take a bath.” He says as the waterbender attempts to swat his hands away.

This piques Emil’s interest. “A bath?” 

Lukas nods. “Didn’t you see the giant tub?” Emil blinks. So that’s what that huge basin was. He’d heard about baths, from stories told by traders that visited the South Pole, and dreamed of not having to clean himself with damp cloths. He never envisioned the first time he’d get to try it would be in the heart of the Fire Nation. 

“I wanna take a bath too!” 

Lukas’s smile is evil. “Well I said it first, so you’ll just have to wait.” His nose twists. “Don’t touch anything while you wait, you stink.” 

“ _Don’t touch anything, you stink_ , ” Emil mocks, because what else is a little brother to do when he has no defense? Falling into easy banter helps some of the knots in his stomach come loose.

Ever since Ambassador Kirkland had come to the South Pole last year to invite the Southern Water Tribe to participate in the first United Republic summit, Emil has been on edge. Emil was adamantly against it— the Fire Nation had been nothing but a thorn in their side for nearly a century, and the reign of the Fire Lord had only shaken the delicate peace that existed between the nations. 

But the old Fire Lord is gone now, and a new Fire Lord has taken his place. One who valued peace, Ambassador Kirkland had insisted. Lukas, for all his wisdom and leadership, still has hope for the future. Emil didn’t understand how he could still be so optimistic, even if not outwardly so. 

But Emil… Emil had watched Fire Nation soldiers drag his parents away. He’d been small enough to be hidden in the snow, and he’d been helpless, all those years ago. But he’s stronger now, he’s made sure of it. The best bender in the Southern Water Tribe, though that’s not saying much, with how few benders they have now. Emil will be damned if he doesn’t make the Fire Nation pay for what they’ve done. For the injustices, for the pain and suffering of his people; he won’t forget, even if his brother has. 

He ruminates over this in the bath, and grudgingly has to admit that this is one luxury he will miss when he’s home. There are vials of scents and soaps lined along the rim of the tub, but Emil refuses to smell like Fire Nation, so he uses his tiger seal lye soap, the one Berwald makes with care. It reminds him of home. 

❄🔥

“I feel stupid,” Emil says, not for the first time, as Lukas helps him dress. It had been tricky to modify traditional Southern Water Tribe clothing to suit the Fire Nation climate, and Emil feels almost naked in the light cotton tunic and pants, dyed a proud blue. Lukas tightens the sash around Emil’s waist so tightly that he wheezes and shoots a dirty look at his older brother from the mirror’s reflection. He still hasn’t forgiven Lukas for combing his hair. 

“You look stupid, but there’s only so much we can do about that,” Lukas says evenly, eyes twinkling with amusement. He's used to his brother’s dramatics. “Not all of us have the luxury of looking like a messy teenage boy.” 

“I don’t have to like it,” Emil grumbles, stubborn to a fault. 

“I don’t like it either.” Lukas meets his brother’s gaze in the reflection. Emil thinks it’s easy for Lukas to say. His brother, while he didn’t flaunt it, had quite the reputation. One for being one of the best non-bending healers and for his incredible leadership skills. The other for his beauty. He’d look good no matter what. “But we have to put our best foot forward. We represent our people. We cannot dishonor them.”

Emil knows Lukas is right, though he’s loathe to say so. He just grumbles, but stays still as Lukas fixes ceremonial beads to his hair. Lukas is clipping his usual water tribe hair piece into place as Ambassador Kirkland peeks through. 

“Is it alright to come in?” 

“Of course,” Lukas says, standing from his spot on the chaise, because he was raised to be polite. Emil remains slouched against the armrest. 

“It’s time for dinner. The other dignitaries are also on their way,” Ambassador Kirkland says with a low bow. 

Lukas nods, face unreadable, but subtly he looks like he’s bracing himself. He turns to Emil. “Are you ready?” 

“Sure,” Emil grouses, and reluctantly gets to his feet. They follow Ambassador Kirkland out of the suite, and through yet another maze of halls. 

“Emil!” 

Everyone jolts and turns, only to see a blur of Earth Kingdom yellow and green. Emil eyes widen in surprise when he sees the familiar faces. 

“Alfred!” Abandoning Ambassador Kirkland and another harried Fire Nation councilman, Emil scurries towards the Earth Kingdom delegation. He bows deeply to Earth King Vargas, Lady Maeja of Omashu, before looking over at two of his favorite people: Matthias and Alfred. He can’t stop the smile.

“Emil!” Matthias’s hug is warm and solid, and Emil allows some of his anxiety to melt away at the embrace. Matthias was the same age as his brother and despite the distance between their kingdoms, he and Lukas were unbelievably close. He’d grown up hearing Matthias’ loud, boisterous laughter almost as much as Lukas fussed over him.

“I want a turn too!” Alfred complains, and Emil reaches out for his best friend. The years have been good to Alfred, sharpening his jaw and broadening his shoulders, but the way his eyes curve into crescents when he smiles is still just the same. “I missed you,” his kind voice is the same too, if not deeper. Emil buries his face in Alfred’s shoulder. It’s unfair that Alfred is taller than him now. The last time they’d met, when King Vargas had visited the South Pole, they’d been fourteen and fifteen and Emil had the advantage. Now, three years later, Alfred is bigger and stronger than him, but the kindness in his eyes remains. 

Emil steps back to get a better look at his friends. It’s different, seeing them in person, rather than sending letters by hawk, and he’s relieved to see them. They look dignified in their emerald green tunics, the mark of the Earth King’s elite guard. It soothes Emil, knowing he and Lukas have allies here. 

“I’m so glad to see you both,” Emil says, nearly breathless with relief. He turns to King Vargas and Lady Maeja, who look to be deep in conversation with Lukas. (He pretends to ignore how Lukas’ eyes momentarily drift to Matthias before returning to the Earth Kingdom royalty.) Alfred takes Emil’s hand and squeezes tight, pulling him along as Ambassador Kirkland and the other Fire Nation official urge them in the direction of the dining hall. 

“So, what do you think?” Matthias asks, the three of them falling back from the rest of the group.

“Guards seem to patrol every hour,” Emil says, keeping his voice low. “It’s a good thing we’re on the ground floor, it’ll make for easier evacuations. Can’t find any direct water sources.” The frustration bleeds into his voice. The only thing he can possibly bend is the water in the air, thick with the tropical humidity. 

Matthias and Alfred exchange a glance. “I meant, what do you think of the castle, Em.” 

Emil stares blandly at Matthias. “I’m telling you what I think of the castle.” 

“I think he meant, do you think it’s pretty?” Alfred’s lips twitch with a smile. “I think it’s gorgeous. A little smaller than the palace in Ba Sing Se but there’s so much to look at.” 

Emil can’t believe what he’s hearing. “We’re in the heart of the Fire Nation and that’s all you can say for yourself?” 

“Em, this is a peace summit. We’re not going to war.” 

“Do you really think that’s what this is?” Emil asks, looking between Alfred and Matthias. “All the most powerful people in the four nations, under one roof. That doesn’t seem suspicious to you?” 

Matthias gives Emil a troubled frown, it looks unnatural on his normally bright features, and opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by their arrival in the dining hall. Their group seems to be the last to arrive— the Air Nomads, led by Priestess Eshe, look deep in conversation with Chief Francis Bonnefoy of the Northern Water Tribe. Lukas and King Vargas head towards that congregation, and Matthias excuses himself to follow.

Everything in the dining room is red and orange— quite frankly, Emil is sick of the color scheme. He tells Alfred as much, glad to have a willing ear to listen to his complaints. But upon approaching the circular dining table, he notices the fine china is colored in greens, oranges, blues, and reds. The colors of the four nations. He scowls down at the plates even as Alfred coos at them. 

“That’s so thoughtful.”

“Ah, yes. World peace will now be achieved with matching dinnerware.” 

Alfred rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why you have to be so cynical, Em. The new Fire Lord is different.” 

Emil scoffs. “Oh really? Because he invited everyone to this bullshit summit?”

Alfred’s face shutters into a confused frown. “No, because I’ve met him.” 

That makesEmil pause. “You’ve met him?” 

“Yes, of course. Since ascending the throne he’s been traveling all over, having peace talks, offering reparations, that kind of stuff. He was in Ba Sing Se a few months ago. He’s different from his father.” 

“And he’s met with everyone?” Emil asks, the world starting to fade around him. Alfred’s expression is more careful this time. 

“Well… I thought he had. Has he not met with your tribe?” 

“No.” The word comes out in a whisper, and Alfred takes a step back. The nerves at the pit of Emil’s stomach transform, so quickly that it’s hard to discern when the anxiety ends and the white-hot fury begins. 

“It’s possible that he just hasn’t had the time yet—” The words die in Alfred’s throat as Emil shoots him a sharp look. 

“You would think the place that suffered the most should be the first priority. If his intent is to offer reparations. Don’t you think?” 

Alfred hesitates. “Well… yes. Of course.” 

“Right.” Emil nods his head and stays very still, funneling the rage into something dangerous and controlled. He tucks it into his heart, knowing the time will come when he’ll need it the most. 

“So—” His gaze is dripping with poison as he scans the room. “Where is the good old Fire Lord?” 

“I’m sure he’ll be here any moment. Emil, please don’t do anything you’ll regret.” 

“I’ll only do what I think is right.” 

“Emil—”

Before Alfred can continue, the doors to the dining hall open again. Everyone seems to wait with bated breath as the new Fire Lord walks in, flanked by several guards. Emil has to crane his neck to get a good look, but what he sees goes against the image he’s been constructing in his head. 

He’s young, to start. His face, though lean and strong, is undercut by big, imploring eyes, and Emil has to consider the idea that they might be the same age. In a simple red and black tunic and pants, he’s not dressed like a proper Fire Lord, though the golden embroidery belies its cost. His hair, a warm chocolate brown, hangs in his face in thick waves, almost unruly, unlike the neat, straight hair traditionally kept by royalty. He’s tall and strong, and Emil can tell, just from the way he walks, that he is a powerful bender. But how powerful is the question. 

“Fire Lord Ka Lung,” Alfred murmurs to Emil under his breath, as though he doesn’t know. As if sensing Emil angry gaze, the Fire Lord’s gaze falls on him straight away. Emil feels like lighting has shot down his spine, and he can barely contain the anger, disgust, and anxiety. 

The Fire Lord’s gaze doesn’t linger for long, likely due to the manners bred into him, and he bows deeply as Priestess Eshe approaches him first. From there, an unspoken queue seems to form, everyone vying for time with the new baby-faced Fire Lord. If Emil has to speak to him, it’ll be too soon. 

“He really is different from his father,” Alfred tries again, but Emil isn’t listening. He’s watching the way the Fire Lord bows deeply to every person who approaches, the way his eyes crinkle into a smile. It makes nausea churn in his stomach, and he has to look away before he does something he’ll truly regret. 

Eventually, Alfred is called away to greet the Fire Lord, and Emil is left to his own devices for a while. He resolves to spend the night in the shadows, watching the Fire Lord, waiting for the right moment. What he’ll do, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s got a reign on his anger now, transformed into something useful and strong. 

“I thought I sensed a fire here.” 

To Emil’s credit, he barely flinches. He turns to see Michelle Bonnefoy, the Northern Water Tribe’s best healer, and a childhood best friend, smiling knowingly at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, trying to sound aloof, like he wasn’t just plotting the new Fire Lord’s untimely demise. 

“With how much your aura is clouded, it’s a surprise you haven’t already been arrested for treason.” Emil opens his mouth, then closes it again. He has nothing to say that won’t incriminate him. “Be careful, Emi. Though I know that’s not your strong suit.” 

“Why is everyone being like this to me,” Emil whines, pouting childishly. 

Michelle pats his cheek, gentle as a mother, though she’s a year younger than him. “You’re too transparent for your own good. Remember why you’re here.” 

“I’m here to protect Lukas,” Emil says, stubborn. 

“Then remember why we’re all here.” 

“I—”

“What’s going on over here? What’s the secret? I wanna know.” Emil doesn’t know if he’s relieved or annoyed to see Mei, trailed after by a disinterested Natalya. It’s strange seeing them in the white and red face paint traditional to the Kyoshi warriors, but he’d recognize them from miles away. 

“Em here isn’t a fan of the new Fire Lord,” Michelle explains. 

“Me neither,” Natalya drawls. She flashes Emil a razor-sharp smile. “If you want help taking him down, let me know.” 

“But he’s so cute!” Erzsébet , another Kyoshi warrior and close friend, butts in. At Emil’s bland look, she huffs. “What? He is. Get a load of him.” Because she’s mentioned it, Emil has no choice but to look again, and objectively speaking, Erzsébet is right. But Emil doesn’t have to give her the satisfaction of agreeing. 

The conversation doesn’t have time to go anywhere, because Lukas is walking over to their little group. “Emil, come meet Fire Lord Ka Lung.” Emil doesn’t have time to protest, because Lukas grabs him by the wrist and pulls him away. He shoots a helpless look back at his friends, but all they do is wave pitifully. 

“Lukas.” The firmness of Emil’s voice gives Lukas pause. “Did you know that our new Fire Lord’s met with everyone in this room except the Southern Water Tribe?” 

Lukas hesitates. “It became obvious after a while.” 

Emil’s anger turns to cold, hard steel. “I see.” 

“Emil, Ambassador Kirkland assured me that—”

“Ambassador Kirkland is not Fire Lord Ka Lung. If he couldn’t spare the time to speak to us himself—”

“Emil we have to let him explain—”

“Explain? You know what I’d like a good explanation for? Why our tribe suffered the most, yet he caters to everyone else first. I’d like a perfectly good explanation for why I shouldn’t drive an ice pick into that face of his.” 

“I’m sure I could provide several.” The red hot fury turns cold, and Emil feels the blood drain from his body. The brothers turn their heads simultaneously, to see Fire Lord Ka Lung standing behind them, hands behind his back, the very picture of calm. 

“Fire Lord Ka Lung—” Lukas starts, but all the Fire Lord does is put up a hand to stop him. 

“Chief Bondevik. I must humbly apologize. I was not aware of my misstep.” 

“You’re not aware? ” Emil’s anger wins out over his decorum, and he steps right up to the Fire Lord and presses a finger to his chest. He registers Lukas saying something behind him, but he doesn’t really hear it. He looks up at the Fire Lord and funnels all his righteous fury into his gaze. 

“You’re not aware that only three benders left in the Southern Water Tribe? Two of them under the age of fourteen? Because your father had all the benders slaughtered? All the warriors enslaved? Our tribe was decimated. Even now, we barely survive. We may not be as important to you as the rest of the world, but the Southern Water Tribe is strong and resilient, and we refuse to dance to your little tune. We survived when your people took everything away. We’ll keep surviving even now.” 

Emil can’t control how loud he became towards the end, and the entire dining hall is so silent that he could hear a pin drop. The Fire Lord’s face is infuriatingly neutral, and Emil suddenly feels very small. As always, he takes the feeling and turns it into a weapon. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” is what the Fire Lord says, after a minute. “But I am trying my best—”

“You’re trying your best? Well your best isn’t good enough.” 

“My father’s actions are inexcusable, but a year on the throne cannot erase the damage done over decades—”

“I doubt anything you do could fix it. So just go back to your little throne and sit there looking pretty. We don’t need or want your help—”

It surprises Emil when the Fire Lord grabs his wrist. He’s ashamed to admit he feels a jolt from the contact, harsh and unforgiving. “You have no right to speak to me that way.” It’s sickeningly satisfying to see the calm veneer give way, molten eyes flaring with temper. 

Emil tugs his hand out of the Fire Lord’s grip. “I’ll speak to you how I want. I have no respect for you or the throne you sit on.” He all but spits the words, and distantly, he hears Lukas whisper his name, horrified. All eyes are on him, yet he can only focus on the man in front of him, jaw clenched tight. 

“Do you understand what you’ve just said?” The Fire Lord’s voice is low, and a weaker man would have cowered at it. But Emil is too angry to be afraid. “In the Fire Nation, disrespect to the throne means we duel.” 

“Oh, you wanna fight?” 

“I have no desire to fight. But the law dictates that we must, if we’re to settle our differences.” 

Emil steps closer, and is annoyed to find he is unfortunately shorter than the Fire Lord. “Good. I can’t wait to legally kick your ass.” 

The corner of the Fire Lord’s eyes tighten. “We’ll duel tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.”

“ _Fine!_ ” Needing to have the last word, Emil spins on his heels and strides out of the dining hall before anyone else can speak up, because what does he have now, besides his own pride? He hears footsteps behind him, but he just walks blindly through the halls.

“Emil Bondevik-Steilsson!” 

Lukas’ commanding, yet fear-ridden voice makes Emil finally halt. He stops in his tracks and sighs, knowing he’ll have to face his brother sooner or later. Lukas grabs him by the arm and forcibly turns him. 

“What in the world were you thinking? Threatening the Fire Lord, on his own soil. I’ve raised you better than that. You should be ashamed of yourself. You’ve humiliated us and our tribe.” 

Emil’s eyes flash. “I was thinking of the tribe. I only ever think of the tribe. Can’t seem to say the same for you.” He regrets the words as soon as he says them, seeing the hurt and betrayal in Lukas’s eyes. “I’m sorry—”

Lukas shakes his head. “I know you think running straight at problems will fix them, but that’s not how it works. That’s not how you protect people.” He loosens his grip on Emil’s arm, like he doesn’t want them to touch anymore. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But don’t forget, not everything is about you Emil. We’ve all lost people close to us.”

There’s a lump forming in Emil’s throat, a headache brewing at his temples. Now that the anger is bleeding away, he’s left only with shame and regret. “I’m sorry, Lukas,” is all he can say. 

“We don’t protect our people with anger. We protect our people with peace. If that means swallowing down humiliation, being cast aside, I’ll do it. Because our people deserve better. Whatever scraps the Fire Nation decides to give us, I’ll take it. I’ll bear that responsibility, because we need them. No matter how much we wish we didn’t. But, Emil, please—” Lukas’ voice breaks, and Emil’s heart splits in two. Lukas didn't let Emil ever see him upset. “Please don’t make this worse than it already is.” 

“I’m sorry,” Emil whispers, eyes stinging with tears. “I was so— so angry. I couldn’t stop it.” He lets Lukas pull him into an embrace, and tucks his face into his brother’s neck. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know. I know you are, Em,” Lukas soothes. He sounds so much wiser and older than he is, and for a moment, Emil remembers just how much responsibility Lukas has, how much more difficult Emil must make things for him. “Let’s just hope tomorrow doesn’t make things worse.” 

“I won’t let it.” Emil straightens up and wipes harshly at the tears. “I promise you, I’ll make this right.” 

❄🔥

In the Eastern wing of the palace, Ambassador Kirkland, called Arthur by those closest to him, paces back and forth across the royal chambers. 

“Ka Lung, what have you done? ” 

From his spot at the edge of his bed, Ka Lung shrugs, helpless. He works slowly to unlace his boots, trying to buy time. “You saw him. He wanted a fight.”

Arthur whips around, eyes blazing with fury. “So, what? You’ll give it to him? This is not reparations, Ka Lung. This is the opposite of reparations!”

“But it’s what he needs,” Ka Lung says, voice tired. He’d seen the white-hot anger in waterbender’s eyes, fueled by years of hurt and pain. It’s what Ka Lung sees when he looks at his own reflection. 

“So, what, this is some sort of twisted punishment? How many times do I have to tell you, you are not responsible for your father’s crimes.” 

“But I am responsible for fixing them.” 

Arthur presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Why couldn’t you just have explained why—”

“Because they’ll only sound like excuses. The Southern Water Tribe deserves better than that. We both know it.” 

Ka Lung meets Arthur’s gaze evenly, and both men are silent for a minute. Finally, Arthur sighs. “But for Agni’s sake, Ka Lung. A duel? Word has already traveled. The last thing we need right now is a spectacle. But apparently that’s what we’re getting now.” 

“I’m not afraid of an audience.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows lift, and for a moment, he looks almost amused. “Perhaps you should be.” 

For the first time all night, Ka Lung laughs. “Do you think I can’t take the waterbender?” _After I took my father?_ is what Ka Lung doesn’t say. 

Arthur shakes his head. “Not only is Emil one of the most powerful benders I’ve ever seen, he’s also stubborn, has a great deal of pride, and will do anything for his people.” His lips twitch. “He reminds me of someone else I know.” 

Ka Lung pretends to ignore him.

❄🔥

Emil sleeps like the dead, because he’s never let anything get in the way of a good night’s rest. He’s loathe to admit that the accommodations provided by the Fire Nation are comfortable. 

Alfred and Matthias visit him in the morning, with a plate of breakfast and a new face. He shyly introduces himself as Peter, Eshe’s apprentice, and the new Avatar. He’s small; Emil wonders how many elements he can bend. 

“He’s a little younger than us and needs friends,” Alfred whispers to Emil, as he all but inhales his food— he hadn’t eaten last night, and had been too stubborn to admit he’s hungry. But if he’s going to duel the Fire Lord, he’ll need his strength. 

Emil spares a glance at Peter, who seems perfectly content where he is. He looks around the same age as Erland, a small angry fourteen year old and Berwald's little cousin. Shrugging, he shoves half a mango into his mouth. Maybe, once the duel is over, he can properly introduce himself. 

“The entire Fire Nation court is going to be there,” Matthias informs, watching as Emil goes through the familiar motions of his waterbending forms. 

“Should I expect lots of booing?” Emil asks without hesitation.

“It’s hard to say.” Matthias shifts the weight between his feet. “Half the court hates Ka Lung, so they might like you if you beat him. But they hate Ka Lung because they’re sympathetic to his father, which means they don’t like foreigners.”

“So it’s Ka Lung now?” 

Lukas and Matthias share a look. 

“He’s only a year older than us, Em.” It’s Alfred who speaks up, and Emil falters. He figured the Fire Lord was young, but he didn’t realize Ka Lung was barely of age. “I keep telling you he’s really nice. And he’s trying his best.”

Emil tries to fall back into his meditative state, starting his forms from the beginning. “You tell me that but I haven’t seen any evidence of it.” 

“Because you don’t pay attention to politics that aren’t your own,” Matthias says, voice firm. It feels unnatural, him being so stern. “If you knew what he’s done for the four nations already—”

“I’m guessing the Southern Water Tribe doesn’t qualify as part of the four nations, then.” The fury of last night threatens to come back, and Emil fights back the feelings of betrayal. That his own friends would continue to defend the very institution that left Emil’s people starved and impoverished. Somewhere, deep down, he knows he’s mad at the wrong people. His friends just want what’s best for everyone, Emil was just too angry to see it. 

“That’s not what I meant, Em. You know it.” 

“Maybe we can have this conversation later,” Lukas interjects, placing a calming hand on Matthias’s chest. The two of them share a glance that speaks a million silent words. “This isn’t the time.” 

Matthias sighs. “Fine.” He claps his hand on Emil’s shoulder. It’s a friendly gesture, Matthias could never stay mad for very long at Emil. “Good luck.” He nods to Peter, who has been watching the exchange with wide eyes, too wise for his age. He gets up to follow Alfred and Matthias out, but he turns to Emil first. 

“He’ll surprise you,” he says with a warm smile. Emil doesn’t know whether it’s the Avatar mojo, or just the kind honesty in his eyes, but Peter’s words shake him. 

He tries not to think of them as he works his way through his forms, or when Ambassador Kirkland arrives to escort him to the arena. There’s a bubble of anxiety that worms its way up Emil’s throat as they approach, and he wonders, not for the first time, why he had to put his foot in his mouth. He can hear voices, large enough in number to carry all the way to where Emil stands in the shadows. 

The world is muted as he steps into the arena, ground covered in warm sand. His eyes flicker around the space, and it’s built like a colosseum. Spectators surround them completely, but Emil doesn’t see them. He eyes the canals that surround the circumference, running with clear water, and feels a sense of relief. 

Opposite him, Ka Lung stands stock still, dressed only in black and red trousers. Emil tries not to be intimidated by the strength coiled under honey-toned skin, or the way his face is carefully blank, though Emil can see a wildfire in his eyes. 

Ambassador Kirkland says something Emil doesn’t hear, before stepping aside. It’s eerily silent as Emil and Ka Lung bow to each other, locking gazes across the arena. Emil’s eye twitches, not daring to make the first move. He wants to know Ka Lung’s fighting style before he develops any sort of strategy. 

And then Emil is ducking past a stream of fire, just barely managing to duck out of the way, and feels sweat prickle at his skin from the heat. Another blast, then another. Ka Lung is ruthless as he shoots fireballs Emil’s way, changing the angle and position randomly, and Emil only has half a second every time to move out of the way. 

He ducks and spins, trying to keep the distance between them, but edges closer towards the canals with every step. He lets Ka Lung continue to blast at him, until he gets a grasp on the water behind him. Drawing up his strength, he draws the water up, and in a giant tide, he sends the wave crashing over Ka Lung. 

The fire fizzles out, no match for that much water, and leaves Ka Lung soaked to the bone. Emil is only able to enjoy it for a second, because soon, Ka Lung is steaming, evaporating the water from his skin and clothes. Thinking fast, Emil sends another stream of water in Ka Lung’s direction, but he dodges it, running straight for Emil. 

There’s annoyance in his eyes, and that surprises Emil more than anger ever could. Like Emil is just some pest to be dealt with as fast as possible. Well, Emil can’t have that. 

So Emil matches Ka Lung’s pace and runs straight for him, shooting shards of ice in his direction. Ka Lung melts them with answering streams of fire. He sends fireballs Emil’s way, and Emil douses them in a swirl of water that he spins in front of him like a lasso. Ka Lung sends a blast his way that knocks them both back, and Emil only barely manages to throw the water up to shield himself. 

And then they’re running at each other again, Ka Lung blasting fire from his palms in wide arcs, and Emil sending water down on them like pouring rain. There are a few close calls where Ka Lung’s hands, flame-hot, graze Emil’s skin, but he jumps out of the way before he can get burned. 

They’re learning from each other, Emil realizes. His water whips are edged in spiky ice, lethal in their precision, and look a little too much like the jets of fire that burst out from Ka Lung’s palms. And at one point, Emil sends several ice blasts at Ka Lung in quick succession, and all are blocked by a wall of fire that looks very much like an ocean wave.

Emil’s sweating, both from the heat of the fire and the moisture in the air. He collects it with a sweep of his hand and manages to send it knocking into Ka Lung’s stomach as an ice disk. It knocks the wind out of him, and he stumbles back long enough for Emil to have the upper hand, and he sweeps his arms up to draw up the water from the canals, only to come up dry. Panicked, he realizes he’s used all of the water. 

Ka Lung, noticing his predicament, smirks, and it’s so infuriating, that Emil makes a split-second decision right there and then. Drawing his focus inwards, he sweeps his arms out again, and hearing the shocked gasps from the spectators, he knows his half-baked plan is working. Even Ka Lung falters, watching as Emil draws all the liquid up from the cups people are holding. 

It floats above their heads for a moment, like a cloud, and knowing he only has seconds to execute his new plan, he sends the liquid raining down on Ka Lung, morphing it into blocks of ice around his hands and feet. 

Ka Lung begins melting them immediately, and Emil knows he’ll only be immobile for a few moments, so he runs as fast as he can across the arena, and uses his momentum to punch Ka Lung square in the jaw. 

He hears the crowd gasping as Ka Lung stumbles back from the force of it. He touches his jaw gingerly, chest heaving, and his eyes are ablaze when he looks at Emil. “That’s cheating.” 

Emil huffs out a breath. “New rules.” 

And then they’re running at each other again, striking out at each other with fists instead of the elements. Distantly, Emil thinks it’s kind of decent of Ka Lung to not use his bending, now that Emil can’t use his. But in the moment, all he can do is dodge and duck. 

Ka Lung manages to sweep his leg behind Emil’s knees, and knocks him down. But Emil uses the new position to grab his leg and pull him down too. He manages to straddle Ka Lung, even as he kicks out, and grabs for Ka Lung’s wrists, but underestimates the brute force of Ka Lung’s strength and finds their positions flipped. 

“Yield!” Ka Lung grunts, pinning Emil down, but Emil kicks out and struggles until the hold loosens. He punches at Ka Lung’s chest, and manages to knock him back enough to get up and swing himself around to get Ka Lung in a chokehold. 

“Your father killed my people!” Emil yells, lightheaded and filled to the brim with frustration and anger. 

Ka Lung tugs at Emil’s forearms, trying to break loose. “I— am not— my father — ” he grunts, elbowing Emil in the stomach until he stumbles back. Ka Lung gets to his feet, face red, and charges at Emil. 

He only manages to brace himself against the impact, and sends them both rolling to the floor. He swipes at Ka Lung the best he can, but they’re so tangled in each other, he’s not sure who he’s even hitting anymore. He doesn’t even feel the pain, the way the sand chafes his skin, the punches Ka Lung lands. 

“Yield!” 

It’s not Ka Lung’s voice he hears. Amidst the groans of exertion and blur of limbs, Emil manages to register Ambassador Kirkland and Lukas (followed by Matthias) running towards them. 

“They’re going to kill each other!” Lukas frowns.

“We’d only be so lucky,” Arthur mumbles. “Both of you! Yield!” But neither Emil nor Ka Lung want to relinquish their hold on each other. To yield now would be accepting defeat. 

He feels Lukas heft him up, while Arthur grabs at Ka Lung, and hauls them apart. Emil tries valiantly to swipe and kick at Ka Lung, but he’s dragged away too quickly to land any blows. _Fire Nation scum!_ he wants to yell, but all that comes out are noises of frustration. 

“Emil. Emil! That’s enough.” Lukas grunts, dragging Emil out of the arena, into a quiet hallway. Distantly, Emil hears the uproar in the arena, but he can’t think about it. He can’t think about the consequences, not when his head is spinning and his stomach is threatening to revolt. Once the adrenaline fades away, he’s going to be in excruciating pain. 

Lukas props him up against the wall, but Emil’s knees are too weak to hold him up, so he just slides to the ground. He puts his head between his knees and fights to get air back into his lungs. Lukas sighs and lowers himself down as well. 

“You’ve made your point.” Lukas rubs Emil’s back slowly, taking his time to assess Emil’s injuries the best he could without moving him.

“I don’t even know what my point is.” Emil doesn’t recognize his voice, meek and hoarse. His head won’t stop throbbing, and nausea swirls in his stomach. 

“After the fight you put up, I doubt anyone will undermine the Southern Water Tribe ever again.” 

Emil looks up in surprise. Lukas’s face is neutral, but there’s a fond glint to his eyes, like he’s proud but Emil doesn’t deserve to know it just yet. “Is that what people are saying?” 

“People are saying a lot of things about you. Not all of them good. But better that than nothing at all.” 

Emil ponders those words. It’s hard to believe that he went toe to toe with the Fire Lord, all because of his temper and a decade of pent up rage. He’s not sure where he stands now. “Some peace summit, huh?” 

Lukas wipes blood off Emil’s lips with the back of his knuckles. “Nobody is angry with you. We’ve all got some issues with the Fire Nation.” Lukas leans in, like he’s divulging a great secret. “Pretty sure you did what half the delegations wished they could do. Natalya’s been complaining that she didn’t get to fight first.”

Emil snorts, then winces from the pain. “I thought everyone liked Ka Lung.” 

Lukas hums. “He’s a good kid. His heart is in the right place. But it doesn’t erase what his father did. We haven’t forgiven him like you think we have.” He leans forward and knocks their foreheads together. It’s a familiar gesture, it reminds Emil of warmth and comfort. “I love you, Emil. You’re my little brother. But if you ever try to fight the Fire Lord again, I’ll hang you by your toes in the tundra.” 

Emil smiles, letting himself be comforted by his brother’s words. The pain is starting to register, now that the high of the fight has worn off. He’ll badger Michelle to heal the worst of it later. 

Hearing footsteps, Lukas and Emil look up, only to see Ambassador Kirkland and the Fire Lord approaching. Seeing Ka Lung limping satisfies something inside Emil, even though his own body protests as Lukas pulls him to his feet. 

Everyone bows their head, though Emil does it because Lukas pinches his side. 

“Chief Bondevik, I was hoping to speak to you for a moment,” Ambassador Kirkland says, face unreadable. Lukas looks between Emil and Ka Lung, who pointedly won’t look at each other, and sighs. “Yes, of course.” They walk down the hall and turn a corner, leaving Emil and Ka Lung alone for the first time. 

Without anger or the promise of violence between them, the awkwardness is tangible. Emil doesn’t know what to say. What does one say in a situation like this? Has anyone ever been in a situation like this? 

“You, uhm—” Ka Lung clears his throat, completely undignified for a so-called Fire Lord, “—You’re an excellent bender.” 

Emil narrows his eyes, wary of his compliment. “Thanks.” he keeps it short, he doesn’t want to give the other the honor of his words, but it’s hard to stay angry.

It’s silent again, and Emil shifts his weight between his feet, hating the tension (despite causing it). “You were pretty good too. For a firebender, anyway.” 

Ka Lung’s eyebrows shoot up. “I see,” he says, then coughs, like he’s containing a laugh. “And I suppose that has nothing to do with the fact that you cheated.” 

Emil shrugs, crossing his arms in defense. “Nobody told me any rules.” 

“There are always rules,” Ka Lung insists. 

“Yeah well.” Emil shrugs, a quick jerk of his shoulder. “Rules don’t mean much when you’re fighting to survive.” He doesn’t know what it is about those words, but suddenly, he feels drained. The anger is completely gone now, leaving only grief in its wake. He leans against the wall, because he doesn’t trust his legs to hold him up. The stone is cool against his back. 

“I haven’t been very honest with you,” Ka Lung says, and Emil tries not to look so surprised when Ka Lung mirrors his position. It’s very unroyal, the way they slouch against the wall. Emil rolls his head in Ka Lung’s direction, eyebrow raised in silent question. 

Ka Lung fiddles with his fingers, chews on the inside of his cheek. He looks like a kicked puppy, not the leader of a nation. “I didn’t want to tell you or your brother this, because if I couldn’t follow through, it wouldn’t be fair. The last thing I want to do is cause your people even more suffering.” 

Curiosity piqued, Emil turns his body, so his weight is leaning on his shoulder. “What are you talking about?” 

“I—” In that moment, with his shoulders slumped, hair in disarray, and eyes downcast, Ka Lung looks so impossibly young, and so impossibly sad. There’s a lump forming in Emil’s throat, and his compassion gets the better of him, conjuring up the image of a boy, lost and afraid. Now that the red haze of anger is gone, Emil can see what Alfred meant, about Ka Lung being kind, trying his best. 

“I know you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be. I haven’t proven you wrong.” Ka Lung frowns. “I believe promises mean nothing. I don’t promise anyone anything, unless I know I can keep it. I’m telling you now because— well, because you deserve to know. I— I can’t promise you anything. It’s out of my hands, but—”

“Ka Lung—” Emil interrupts. Neither of them register that Emil hadn’t addressed Ka Lung by his proper title. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ka Lung lets out a shaky breath. “Well, I—” Another. “After I was coronated, I put together a team. Of sorts. To track down the people in your tribe who were taken away by my father’s military.” 

Emil’s ears start to ring, heart in his throat. “That’s impossible.” His own voice sounds far away. “They all died that day.” 

Ka Lung shakes his head. “They didn’t. I overheard my father when he planned the raid. He sold them into slavery. Some of them likely did die— Fire Nation soldiers aren’t exactly known for being merciful, but I imagine most of them are alive.” 

Emil can hardly hear anything over how loud the blood is pounding in his ears. _Alive_. His people could be alive. His parents, Lukas’ parents... “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I—” Ka Lung swallows. “I’ve been looking for them. Tracking them down to bring them home. It’s been proving to be very difficult, the records have been doctored so much, so it’s taking longer than I thought. That’s why I haven’t visited the Southern Water Tribe yet. Not because I’ve forgotten, or that I think your people aren’t important. I just—” Ka Lung looks at Emil, eyes pitiful. “I just wanted to make things right.” 

“I—” The words clog in Emil’s throat, and his vision blurs with tears. He rubs harshly at his eyes. Despite his lack of anger, he still didn’t want the Fire Lord to see him cry. 

“Woah, please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“I’m not— You didn’t—” Emil takes a shaky breath, overwhelmed by embarrassment and for the first time in his life, hope. His feet carry him forward before he can think about it, and suddenly, he’s got a face full of half-naked firebender. “Thank you.”

“Uhm—” Ka Lung’s hands hover uselessly at his sides, before they come up to wrap around Emil. “I can’t promise you anything,” he murmurs, and it’s the genuine sadness in his voice that has the permafrost on his heart melting. “I haven’t been able to find anyone yet.”

“It’s okay. You’re trying.” Emil pulls away and thinks of Lukas. He thinks that it should really be Lukas hearing this revelation, not him. Instead, he channels his inner Lukas and tries to think of what he would say. So he bows his head the best he can without wincing and breathes out. “I’m grateful. The Southern Water Tribe is grateful.” 

“That’s— I didn’t—” Ka Lung tenses, blush staining his cheeks. “Please don’t say that—” 

Emil stands up straight again and huffs out a laugh, because what else is he supposed to do now? His whole world has been turned upside down. The very person he swore to hate, the very person he not just twenty minutes ago was willing to fight until his last breath, might very well be his biggest ally now. 

He reaches up and brushes his fingers across the swelling on Ka Lung’s cheek. “I got you pretty good, huh?” 

Ka Lung snorts. “Whatever you say, cheater.” Emil ignores the way Ka Lung’s face is still tinged pink, and the way he feels heat flare in his own cheeks. “You pack a hard punch for someone so small.” 

“I am not small!” Emil grits, aiming a punch to Ka Lung’s stomach, but he steps out of the way just in time. _Bastard_. “Say that again, I dare you!” Ka Lung just laughs. 

“Say what again? That you’re small?” Punch. “Tiny?” Punch. “Little?” he continues to taunt as he dances out of the way of Emil’s hands. It’s all light-hearted of course, there’s a mischievous edge to Ka Lung’s voice that makes Emil feel like he’s seeing inside the calm, respectful façade of the young Fire Lord. 

(Plus, he’d never admit it, but Emil has to fight the smile that threatens to take over his own face.)

❄🔥

That night, at dinner, everyone treads carefully around Emil. None of the dignitaries, some who Emil has known since he was little, seem to know what to do or say around him. For being a waterbender, everyone treats him like an unstable flame. 

When Ka Lung walks into the room, everyone takes a collective breath. Ka Lung’s eyes find Emil within a second, much like last night. But this time, Emil walks up to the Fire Lord of his own accord, and they stare at each other for a moment. He knows what it looks like— a potential continuation of the bloody fight. 

Suppressing a smile, he bows his head to Ka Lung, and looks up to see him doing the same. They share a look of understanding, and the corner of Ka Lung’s mouth quirks up. When Emil steps away, it seems like everyone lets out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. 

“Okay, what was that?” Alfred asks after, dragging Emil aside. 

Emil shrugs. “Let’s just say... the Fire Lord and I have come to an understanding.”

Alfred doesn’t look like he believes Emil, but he can’t elaborate. He’d given Ka Lung his word that he wouldn’t breathe a word about the plan to anyone, and he won’t go back on that, no matter how tempted he is to share. Not even Lukas can know, not yet. 

“That was some swing, kid,” Natalya praises later. “Please tell me Sparky lost a tooth.” 

“But he has such a nice smile,” Erzsebet bemoans. The look she sends Emil is admonishing. From behind her, Natalya rolls her eyes and Mei cackles behind her hands. 

“Technically, he ruined mine too,” Emil protests. He prods at his jaw, feeling the phantom pain of Ka Lung’s fist colliding with bone. He’d had to endure an hour of Michelle’s lecturing, but it had been worth it to walk and not feel excruciating pain. And, they took time to catch up as well. After everything, it was nice to unwind by talking to his childhood friend.

“He could have actually destroyed you, you know that, right?” Mei grabs Emil’s wrist as she says this. “He could have burned you without your bending, but he fought you fair and square.” 

The blood feels like ice in Emil’s veins. “I know that.” It’s terrifying to have to have to admit it. Regardless of Emil’s feelings, he can’t deny Ka Lung is honorable. “I’ll apologize eventually. I’m just, you know…”

“Stubborn?” Alfred suggests. 

“Hot-headed?” Mei adds.

“Petty.” Natalya is stifling a smile as she says it. 

“Wow. Thanks so much guys.” 

❄🔥

The dinner goes off without a hitch. Emil finds himself pleasantly surprised at the array of food offered—vegetarian options for the Air Nomads, a variety of stews, meats, and fish to suit the tastes of the other nations. Curious, Emil ignores the traditional Water Tribe dishes and goes for the Fire Nation dishes, colorfully spiced.

“Careful! It’s spicy,” Michelle warns from his side when Emil serves himself something called Komodo chicken. As if to confirm, Alfred begins to cough violently, having taken a bite seconds earlier. Curiosity piqued, Emil takes a small, testing bite, and finds himself liking the flavor, the spices leaving a pleasant heat on his tongue. He takes bigger bites, enjoying himself immensely. 

He catches Ka Lung watching him from across the table, only to get an embarrassed smile before the Fire Lord shifts his attention. 

They don’t speak again for the rest of the night, and Emil is disappointed, though he reminds himself he has no business talking to the Fire Lord. He also doesn’t want to examine too closely why he wants to talk to Ka Lung so badly. He has to content himself with fleeting looks from across the room, like his mind needs a way to commit Ka Lung to memory. 

The question of why keeps Emil up. Antsy from the events of the day, he can’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he tries. Frustrated, he slips out of bed. Peeking into his brother’s room, he’s relieved to find Lukas fast asleep. And because he doesn’t want to deal with the guards stationed outside their door, Emil takes great care to open a window quietly. 

Because they’re on the ground floor, Emil doesn’t have to do much but slip outside. The night air is cool and bracing, different from the sticky humidity of daytime. Emil likes this much better, and feeling more revived, he sets off with no direction. 

It isn’t difficult to evade the guards patrolling. Emil thought royal guards would be more vigilant, given who they’re protecting, but apparently all it takes to get past them is a very sneaky waterbender. He keeps close to walls and treads carefully. It would be awkward to explain why he’s wandering around the palace in the middle of the night, and he’s already in enough trouble as it is.

After a few minutes of walking, Emil feels the ripples of water nearby. His fingers twitch with longing, and he should have realized that he’d eventually find water. Everything always led back to water. 

Turning a corner, Emil carefully navigates through a thicket of trees into a wide garden. Surrounded by flowers and brush is a pond. And sitting at the bank, feeding the turtleducks, is the Fire Lord himself. 

“Can’t sleep?” Ka Lung asks without turning. 

Emil takes a deep breath and exhales sharply, probably sounding more annoyed than he really was. _Why is this guy everywhere I go?_ Emil wonders. 

“Hey, I got here first,” Ka Lung says, like he’s reading the thoughts from Emil’s mind. “So technically, you copied me.” The remark is so petty, so _Emil_ , it has him choking out a surprised laugh. 

“Fine, I copied you.” Emil isn’t in much of a fighting mood at the moment. He makes his way over to Ka Lung and sits on the grass beside him. From this close, Emil thinks Ka Lung smells like sandalwood. He hazards a glance, only to find Ka Lung already looking at him. Emil turns his head quickly, embarrassed to be caught.

Ka Lung offers him a small bowl filled with berries and grapes. “They’re for the turtleducks,” he clarifies, when Emil grabs a handful and makes to eat them. Emil feels his ears tip with heat and tries to ignore Ka Lung’s teasing smile. 

“They’re a little… uh… friendly,” Emil observes, when he holds out a gooseberry and a duckling pecks it up without hesitation. His last run-in with a turtleduck hadn’t gone nearly so well. 

“Well, I’ve been, like, raising them for a while now.” Ka Lung scoops up a duckling and cradles it to his chest. He makes a cooing noise, like one makes to a baby, and pets it’s head with the pads of his fingers. “They’re so cute aren’t they? They’re so trusting.” 

Emil makes a noncommittal noise, holding out bits of fruit for the turtleducks that begin to surround him, now that they know he has food. “Shouldn’t they be asleep at this time of night?” he wonders. 

“Maybe they had a lot on their mind.” Somehow, Emil doesn’t think Ka Lung is speaking about the turtleducks.

“What kind of things?” he finds himself asking. 

“Oh, you know.” Ka Lung sighs. “Establishing trade deals with the Earth Kingdoms. Procuring land for displaced Air Nomads. Trying to track down refugees of the water tribes. The usual.” 

“Must be hard, being a turtleduck.” 

Ka Lung giggles, undignified and childish, and Emil likes the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. He likes the two crooked front teeth, the way his eyes sparkle, the splattering of freckles across his nose. Emil looks away quickly, perturbed by the direction of his thoughts. 

“It’s not so bad.” 

Emil frowns at Ka Lung, surprised. “No?” 

The light in Ka Lung’s eyes dim, and Emil is sorry for it. “Do you know what Agni Kai is?” 

Emil shifts, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “Sort of? It’s a duel.” 

“In the Fire Nation, we use it to settle differences. The first person to burn their opponent wins.” Ka Lung strokes the turtleduck in his arms absently. The turtleduck nips at his fingers, but he doesn’t even flinch. “I was eleven when my father raided the Southern Water Tribe.”

Emil’s stomach churns violently. He tries very hard not to think of that day, of being hidden in the ice banks while his parents were dragged away from him. There had been no blood in the snow, but he had always assumed the tides had washed it away. 

“I remember sitting there, watching my father make plans and I just… I couldn’t do anything.” Ka Lung’s eyebrows pull together, lips pressed into a thin line. “I couldn’t say anything. It felt like the words were just stuck in my throat. I wasn’t strong enough.” 

“You were just a kid.” Emil’s head hurts. 

Ka Lung shakes his head, like that doesn’t matter. “I made a decision, afterward. I wasn’t strong enough then, but some day, I would be.” Ka Lung’s eyes are steely as he focuses on Emil. “I was never a very good bender, or very responsible. I didn’t think any of that stuff was important. But after that day, I don’t think I’ve ever been so serious about anything.” 

Emil doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet. “I knew the only way to stop my father would be to challenge him to Agni Kai. I had to be strong enough to take him because—” Ka Lung swallows thickly. “Because it was the only way to fix everything.” 

The silence stretches between them, broken only by the indignant quacks of the turtleducks. Now that the food is gone, they lose interest in the humans and waddle back into the water. Ka Lung sets down the turtleduck in his arms and it follows after the rest. Emil watches as they paddle away, back to their nest hidden in the cattails. 

“What happened to your father?” Emil asks. 

Another pause. “I killed him.” 

“That’s...” Emil trails off into silence. He doesn’t know what to say about that. He’s not sure what he was expecting— maybe that his father was locked up somewhere in the dungeons, never to be let out again. Emil doesn’t know Ka Lung well, but he seems like the merciful, sentimental type. 

Ka Lung eyes Emil carefully. “Does that bother you?”

“Why would that bother me?”

Ka Lung jerks his shoulder. “I took a life. I have blood on my hands. My father’s blood.”

“I mean…” Emil doesn’t know how to comfort someone in this kind of situation. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not exactly his biggest fan.” Ka Lung’s face remains neutral, so he tries again. “I think that if you hadn’t killed him, there would have been a lot more blood spilled. So… I think you saved lives. More than we could ever imagine.” 

Ka Lung exhales sharply. He picks at the grass anxiously, staining the tips of his fingers green. Emil finds himself reaching over and placing his hand on the other’s shoulder. Ka Lung glances at him in surprise, and Emil fights the heat staining his cheeks. 

“I misjudged you.” Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or the glow of the moon on his skin, or the warmth of Ka Lung’s hands in his, but Emil can admit this now. “By a lot. And I’m so—sorry for that.” 

Ka Lung shakes his head. “I would have done the same.”

Emil examines Ka Lung’s face. So young, yet so full of compassion and grief. Emil hates to admit that the other is definitely more mature. “I don’t think you would have.”

Ka Lung’s shoulders slump forward, like all the energy has been drained from him. “I don’t want you to hate me.” His eyes flicker up, then back down, just as quickly. 

“Because of politics?”

“Well. Yeah. I guess. But also I just—“ Emil doesn’t know what to do with the look in Ka Lung’s eyes. “I just don’t.” 

Emil’s pulse hammers in his chest. “Well,” he swallows. “I don’t. I couldn’t. Not anymore.” The space where he held his anger, his hatred, is filling up quickly with something different, and it scares him. 

The relief is a tangible thing. “Good.”

Emil becomes hyper-aware of how close they are— the way their fingers are tangled, knees pressed together. Ka Lung’s eyes flicker over his face like he can’t look anywhere else. Emil wonders what it would be like to kiss Ka Lung. Would his lips be as warm as the rest of him? 

His heart leaps into his throat, at a loss with what to do about his sudden change in feelings. He’s the Fire Lord, Emil reminds himself. He had sworn to hate Ka Lung forever. Just today they’d been prepared to beat each other into the dirt. And now he’s thinking about kissing. Feeling foolish, he pulls his hands away, and turns to face the water instead. He hears Ka Lung sigh from beside him, and tries not to wonder whether it’s disappointment. 

“Wanna see something cool?” Emil asks, forcing his voice to remain light. 

“Sure,” Ka Lung says. He turns too, and Emil wishes their shoulders and thighs didn’t press so close together. Trying to concentrate, he holds his hand out towards the pond, and raises it. 

“Woah!“ Ka Lung jerks in surprise, watching as the water floats up, taking everything inside the pond with it. The koi swim in circles over their heads, unbothered. A fearless turtleduck paddles to the edge of the water and peers down at them with beady eyes. Ka Lung laughs in shock. “This is amazing.”

Emil doesn’t want to remember the way Ka Lung’s face looks as he watches the water. He doesn’t want to remember the smile Ka Lung had given him, soft and full of wonder, like Emil is wonderful. He doesn’t want to remember the way Ka Lung’s head falls to his shoulder, or the way his hair smells like jasmine, or the way his own eyes drift shut after a while, content to waste the night away, just like this. 

❄🔥

Two weeks after Emil first sets foot in the Fire Nation, it’s time for him to leave. Time has flown, days spent in council meetings so boring Emil wants to poke his eye out. Nighttime is what he treasures most— stolen moments spent feeding the turtleducks with Ka Lung, whispering stories about their lives, pretending they don’t find any excuse to touch each other. Ka Lung’s calm, royal exterior melted away into a mischievous, sassy teenager. One who could keep up with Emil’s banter, one who once apparently set fireworks off in the palace as a prank. Ka Lung realy was just a normal teenage under all of those fancy titles.

The palanquin in front of Emil is the same one he rode in before, but he feels like a different person. It’s certainly a different world, now that Ka Lung is Fire Lord. Everyone will be better for it. 

“Take care,” Arthur says, and he almost looks like he’ll miss Emil. 

“We’ll let you know as soon as we get back home,” Lukas promises. 

Heart aching, Emil glances around at the other dignitaries settling into their transportation. Peter waves wildly at Emil from atop his air bison with a loud, child-like laugh, while Alfred and Michelle wave from their carriage. The Northern Water Tribe will sail with them to the Earth Kingdom before making their own way home. They’d said their goodbyes before, Alfred had sobbed.

Finally, Emil glances at Ka Lung, surrounded by guards at the top of the palace steps. He looks so lonely, that Emil makes a spur-of-the-moment decision, as he is wont to do. 

“Wait for me—” Emil says, before across the courtyard and up the steps. The guards tense up immediately, hands gripping at swords.

“He is not a threat,” Ka Lung says, annoyed. The guards drop their stance, and Emil rolls his eyes, stepping between them to get to Ka Lung. 

“You’d think, after all this time,” Emil grouses. 

Ka Lung’s mouth twitches with a smile. “Is everything okay?” 

“Well— It’s just— I had this idea, okay?” Emil struggles to find the courage to say his next words. “I can help.” 

Ka Lung’s eyebrows furrow together. “Help with what?” 

“With tracking down my people.” Ka Lung opens his mouth to protest, but Emil holds a hand out to stop him. “No, listen. It’s perfect. I know their names, I know their faces. I’m the perfect person to help. I want to do this— No, I need to do this.”

Ka Lung eyes Emil carefully. “You’ve made up your mind. Does it really matter what I say?” 

Emil actually laughs. “You catch on pretty quick.”

Ka Lung gets a funny look on his face and then steps forward, until they’re toe to toe. “Promise me you’ll write.” 

Emil nods. “Of course.”

“Promise me you’ll visit.” 

“I will. You have to visit too.”

“Okay.” Ka Lung takes a deep breath, and glances from side to side, which causes Emil to do the same. Everyone is watching them, which is a little mortifying. He wonders if they think they’re going to fight again. 

“I have a present for you.”

Emil’s eyebrows shoot up at Ka Lung’s words. The other looks smug and nervous at the same time. “A present? You didn’t have to— Mphf— ”

Ka Lung cuts him off by pressing their lips together. The kiss is clumsy, mouths bumping together awkwardly. Emil is frozen in shock at first, hands hovering uselessly at his sides. This is Emil’s first kiss, he’s not exactly an expert on what to do. After a moment, Ka Lung moves to pull away and that knocks Emil back to his senses. He cups Ka Lung’s face and pulls him back into a kiss, hoping he’s not as bad of a kisser as he thinks he is.

Kissing Ka Lung feels like huddling around a fire on a cold winter’s night. He feels warm from his head to his toes. Ka Lung’s hair feels like silk between Emil’s fingers, his mouth tastes like fire noodles and jasmine tea. At this moment, Ka Lung is not the Fire Lord, and Emil is not a warrior of the Southern Water Tribe. They are just two people, drawn together by the red string of fate. 

Distantly, Emil hears an awkward cough from one of the guards, and hollers of his name that sounds suspiciously like Matthias. Embarrassed, he breaks away and steps back. Ka Lung’s eyes are still closed, like he’s still lost in the moment. 

“So. Uhm. Yeah.” Ka Lung breathes after a moment. “That was your present.” 

Emil stares at him in disbelief, lips still tingly. He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to, they’re both content in the silence. It doesn’t last long though. They know Emil needs to leave.

Emil takes a step back. “I guess I’ll see you soon, your _Majesty_.” 

Ka Lung’s eyes twinkle. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Turning on his heels, he runs back down the steps and towards the palanquin, ignoring the looks of the other dignitaries. He doesn’t look back, even as the palanquin jerks forward to take them to the ship that will take them home. He doesn’t need to. 

Emil was right. Ka Lung’s mouth really is as warm as the rest of him.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments if you liked it! it really helps :]! thank you so much for reading this far, i love you.
> 
> if enough people like this, maybe i'll turn this into an au series and write more one shots in this universe!
> 
> my tumblr is @heta come bother me there!


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